


Aphrodite Feels Left Out

by tanarill



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Hercules (1997)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Bisexuality, Character Death, Character Study, Enthusiastic Consent, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fix-It of Sorts, Getting Together, Growing Up, Idiots in Love, M/M, Multi, The more we get together the happier we'll be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-30
Updated: 2007-04-30
Packaged: 2019-07-02 02:53:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15787479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanarill/pseuds/tanarill
Summary: Hercules leaves the underworld essentially no worse than he found it, and in no worse shape than he went it.In the short term, anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know, guys. The Disney version just outright refutes the Hera-hates-Hercules-because-he's-Zeus'-bastard thing, and also makes Hades evil instead of, like, the chillest dude. Persephone literally did not even exist. On the other hand, dat voice. Dat ass.
> 
> So I wrote a thing to fix it, a bit. This is from 2007. Please be kind.

It had taken him a while to get out of the Well of Souls. Not because the Well of Souls was particularly hard to get out of, but because he had to make sure that the girl and Hercules had safely left before he did. Honestly, all the souls who’d ever died and they couldn’t even defeat one god.

He took it out on Pain and Panic.

He was pleasantly unsurprised to find that Hercules had given up on godhood for the girl. Really. What was worth more, an eternity on Olympus or a mortal’s mayfly years? And it isn’t like gods can’t go to earth, either. Half the people in Greece had divine blood somewhere in the family.

But he had. For some reason, this did nothing to cheer him up.

Over the next lifetime, he:

Kidnapped and married Persephone. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t love her; it was simply that she wasn’t enough. It went unspoken for a decade, and then Persephone told him that she loved him enough to let him go. He was grateful, certainly, but not having to go behind her back meant nothing when there was no one to fail to go behind her back _with_.

Watched as Hercules and Meg got married and had a half-dozen screaming brats in quick succession. Zeus was surprised that he sent presents, totally innocuous non-magical presents, to all of the baby namings. Hera was not.

Showed up intermittently, when their father wasn’t around, to teach the quarter-godlings a few tricks that their father had never been taught. They weren’t very difficult, even a talented mortal could pull them off, but an extra burst of charm applied at the right time could do more than inhuman strength ever could.

Watched the _Argo_ sail.

Watched the _Argo_ return.

Watched Hercules go mad, and kill Megara and the two eldest. He managed to get to the other four before Hercules did. He wasn’t quite sure why he saved their lives; certainly Meg was surprised, but Seph took her aside and had apparently said something helpful because after that Seph told him that Meg was staying, and that was that. He didn’t find her quite so grating now as he had years ago, but he didn’t know if it was motherhood that had changed her or if he had changed. The women smiled.

Saw Hercules perform his twelve labors in rapid succession, with the reckless abandon that can only belong to those who don’t truly care to remain alive. He survived.

Spent a year in service to the mortal priestess-goddesses of Lydia, where he learned that love is love and lust is lust. Hades spent a lot of time in Lydia after that, to the point where the people of Lydia stopped fearing death. It is hard to fear a friend you know by name, after all.

Fell in love with Deianira, the princess of Calydon, and won her hand in honorable combat. Deianira was lot like Megara: sarcastic, sensuous only in a very sharp way, and unafraid to step outside the boundaries of women. She knew how to use a sword.

Was unwittingly betrayed by Deianira, who chose afterward to kill herself rather than live without him. She was rather surprised to find herself welcomed by Seph and Megara.

By this point, there were Hades and more than two dozen women living in his house. Seph and Megara, of course, and Deianira. Also all the mortal girl-children of Hercules who did not belong to the Omphalian priestesshood. He had drowned his sorrows in wine, women, and song for a long time, after all, and women inevitably made babies.

Hercules married Hebe. Zeus spirited the Prince Ganymede from Troy, which was probably not a good thing all told because there wouldn’t have been all that trouble later if he’d been in Troy. Hera was furious until Ganymede charmed her. Then Hera was smug like a cat and Zeus found himself in the unique position of having a house that was, for once, at peace with itself.

The women giggled, and sent blue roses to Hera. Hades was never quite sure where they had come from.

And then one day, he opened the door to find Hercules and Hebe standing outside. Hebe was almost immediately spirited off by the women, who had somehow planned the entire thing.

There was a long moment of awkwardness that stretched into almost an infinity before he started to say, “So . . . how’s life?” at the same time as Hercules began saying, “Listen, Hades–” They were both beat, however, by Irina, one of Hercules’ mortal children, who had managed once again to cut herself. This time with a fish.

Irina was the best swordswoman it had ever been Hades’ pleasure to teach. But she had a nasty tendency to inadvertently sharpen things around her, and then cut herself. He kissed the wound and sent her off to her mothers. Hercules was surprised to find that Hades even has a daughter. He was shocked to find out that in fact Hades didn’t but was taking care of his mortal children.

The awkwardness came back.

It lasted longer this time, because Hebe and the Women walked in laughing with each other and surrounded by a gaggle of children to announce that dinner as ready and if they would please quit being so weird they could eat it in the garden.

It was Seph’s garden, which should have been his first clue.

It was Deianira’s cooking, which should have been his second. Seph was good for fresh strawberries and Meg was good for the massive quantities of food needed for two gods, two dead women, and ten children between the ages of six and sixteen. Deianira was good for getting rid of inhibitions.

Dessert was honey-wine cakes. By that point, his mind should have been screaming. In fact the only thing that his mind did was hum happily and then wander off to bed, carrying Hercules.

Hades wasn’t worried about Seph, but it was a big surprise to realize in the morning that Meg and Deianira and Hebe had also been in on it. Not that a lot of his mind was paying attention while a tiny part of him ticked off the thoughts and counted them up, because mostly it paid attention to Hercules.

Hercules paid attention to Meg and Deianira and Hebe and Seph, however. He did rather more than pay attention until Hebe threw a pillow at him and told him that they were moving in with Hades, end of discussion.

Meg wore her “I’m a cat who got the cream” smile and nothing else, at least until Deianira tackled her.

Hercules didn’t get out of the house until much, much later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still. Not. A. Doctor. But I'm feeling less depressed, so you get old-as-balls fic.


	2. Coda: the Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two people who never quite got the knack of happiness, learning how to fit together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of the first porns I ever posted. Please be kind.

It was going to take some getting used to, being happy. As a human, he’d never really fit in, a product of being somewhat divine. As a god, he’d never really fit in, a product of him being raised human. But here, in this vast black house in these vast dark caverns, with their silent rivers and their whispering ghosts, he’d woken up one morning –  
  
– the morning in question being the night after his, their, wives had pulled off the most impossible feat ever –  
  
– and found that he was happy.  
  
Marriage had changed his uncle. Life had changed him. He wasn’t quite sure who had changed more. They’d changed enough that the icy, searing, mutual hate of his youth had dissolved entirely, leaving only the heat and cool kisses, working their way down his body. He blushed more than a little at that memory, and splashed cold water on his face.  
  
For Hade- for Fath- for _somebody’s_ sake, he’d been dead/deified for all of nineteen months, how had he managed to acquire so much shit! Hebe had smiled that secret smile that women, all women, whether goddess or mortal, seemed to be able to do from around the time they learnt to walk and packed everything she owned into six large chests. He _knew_ that she owned more than could fit in six large _horse carts_ , mostly because he had been the one carrying it all into the house after the honeymoon. But it all fit, somehow into six large chests.  
  
The furniture alone had taken Hades and him four trips to get down to the Rock Pile.  
  
“Isn’t it a bit disrespectful to call your house the Rock Pile?” he’d asked.  
  
Hades had given him this _look_ , and said, “Why? It’s my house. I’ll call it whatever I want, and since it’s a bloody great pile of obsidian and black granite, I’ll call it the Rock Pile.”  
  
To which he had no answer.  
  
Anyway.  
  
They’d gotten everything into the Rock Pile. The women were unpacking. He wasn’t quite sure how that worked–Hebe put things in boxes, he moved them, the women got them out of boxes again–but all four of them had told them to go away, they’d only mix everything up.  
  
Whereupon he was introduced to one of the amenities that he hadn’t seen on Olympus but was, apparently, a fixture here: baths large enough to have parties in. He’d stared for a long moment before Hades, in his usually sarcastic tone, asked, “What, never seen a bath before, golden boy?”  
  
“It’s _huge_!”  
  
“Yes, but when you have twenty-four females, and half of them haven’t gotten out of that sticky phase, you need a big bath.”  
  
“Sticky phase?”  
  
Hades had rolled his eyes. “Sticky phase. All kids go through it. I’m sure you went through it. It’s that time when you can give a kid a bath and put him in a closed room with nothing in it and ten minutes later he’ll be sticky again. Or she. I think girls are actually _worse_. And once Seph had gotten me to put it in, she wasn’t going to let me get rid of it again.”  
  
He’d taken several experimental steps into the water, and waded in deeper when he found it pleasantly cool. Now he was floating face down as little wavelets lapped at his back, luxuriating in the calm and the way that he didn’t have to breathe, half-asleep. Really, when _had_ he gotten it all?  
  
He was totally unprepared for Hades sneaking up on him and turning him over in the water and splashing water on him until he was even more utterly _soaking_ than he already had been. Of course, he gave as good as he got, and they were both gods, so by the time they’d finished with their little water fight, the entire room was dripping and they were both Wet. And he was happy, because for once it wasn’t a matter of life or death; it was a moment of pure frivolous fun.  
  
And then there was that heartbeat in the moment afterward, when he felt himself falling again and knew that Hades was flying with him, and they sort of _gravitated_ into one another, lips to hungry lips and bodies pressed flush against each other and fitting together like they had been made to.  
  
Before, a week ago, Hades’ kisses had seemed cold, tickling like a stray breeze against his skin. Here and now, they burned.  
  
They ended pressed up against the edge of the bath, his back to the cold tile and limbs wrapped around the brand that was Hades, mouths soft and needing against each other, swapping breath and moaning as they rocked together. He broke away long enough to gasp out, “I need you–” before diving back in, angling for a blue neck.  
  
Hades was not coherent enough for anything, not even one of his comebacks. He just moaned again and tilted his head to give better access and hissed in pleasure.  
  
Sometime later, when he’d managed to make a large mark the color of a blackcurrant wine stain on Hades neck, he pulled back a little and repeated, “I need you.”  
  
Hades, he’d discovered on that wondrous first night, in a pile of limbs of and love, was a surprisingly sweet lover. He might be a cold, dark god of the dead, but he knew exactly what he was doing. And, despite the fact that he was most senior of the six of them, he’d made sure he was the last to tumble over the edge into that unbound ecstasy. A week hadn’t changed him much. Accordingly, even though they were both rock-hard and every tiny motion set them shuddering, he _asked_.  
  
“Oh _gods_ , Hades, _everything_!”  
  
Hades’ lips quirked then, and he said, “Yes, we are gods,” and leaned in for a kiss before there could be a retort to his retort. By then time he let the captured lips, now beginning to bruise, free–and it was _quite_ a while, they didn’t need to breathe–all thought had left his head and he was writhing and, “ _Please_ , Hades, fuck me.”  
  
As little as a week ago, he’d have bet that, given the chance, Hades would take him as roughly and as painfully as possible. That was a week ago.  
  
But Hades had been immortal before Zeus had been conceived, and knew that no one ever had much fun if the sex was hurried, so he didn’t. Instead, he kissed, and licked, and teased; he left little bite marks all the way down, neck to left ankle, and little bite marks all the way up, ankle to right shoulder. Licked the inside of his thighs, planted burning/freezing kisses _everywhere_ , and refused to even think about touching the one place he _needed_ to be touched the most. “Please, please, please,” he’d begun saying at some point, and there seemed to reason to stop.  
  
Eventually, suckling at one nipple, Hades had lazily coated his fingers in bath oil, and begun loosening him up. He wasn’t expecting the feeling of those frigid/firebrand fingers inside, although logically he should have been; everything about Hades either froze or burned, there didn’t seem to be a middle setting. It was not a bad sensation, and tilted his hips and moaned again and continued his mantra, “Pleasepleaseplease – ”  
  
Another eternity later, Hades finally, _finally_ pressed in. Slowly, as slowly as he seemed to be able to manage, which was nowhere near fast enough. “Pleaseharderfaster,” because even though his brain had pretty much shorted by this point, he managed to recognize the fact that he wasn’t going to get what he wanted until he asked; and once he asked, Hades let a little of that iron control slip and went harder and faster, rolling his hips and searching for–something.  
  
He reached down to stroke himself, because Hades hadn’t touched him there and he _needed_ it–  
  
“No,” a calloused blue hand, older and stronger than his, capturing and effortlessly pinning both of his arms, so strong by mortal standards, above his head. “No,” again, more roughly, “I’m going to make you come by the pleasure I give you alone.”  
  
He almost did, right then, from the lust in the dark god’s voice.  
  
And Hades continued to make love to him, in and out in a steady rhythm, guiding and tilting his hips with his free hand, until he found what he’d been searching for. It was worth it, too, for the sparks that crackled along his nerves with every thrust, and he _still hadn’t come yet_ , although he was so lose to the edge that he could _taste_ it.  
  
It went on for a long time. Hades had, after all, been doing this for longer than humans had existed, knew what to do and how far to push and when to back down. As effortlessly as he was held pinned, open and vulnerable, he was held right on the edge, not allowed to tumble over and too far gone to back down, until it almost _hurt_ –  
  
When he was finally allowed to come, it was like a spring storm: sudden, and hard, and fast, and he was so far gone in his own orgasm that he didn’t notice Hades throw back his head and _howl_ as he allowed himself release also.  
  
They came down off the high together, slowly and in steps, until they could look around and not see spots and not feel their hearts pounding in their chests. Eventually, they’d recovered enough for Hades to ask, “Was that what you wanted?”  
  
A smile, almost shy except that, here and now, there was no such thing as modesty. “No. How could I have known to want _that_?”  
  
“I’m . . . happy.” He sounded surprised, amazed, as if he hadn’t expected that but found it to be true anyway. And there was this: Hercules realized that he wasn’t the only one who was going to be learning how to be happy.  
  
They had all of eternity to learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My professor is not giving me the support I need. What else is new.
> 
> Monday is Rosh Hashana. Shana Tova (have a good year) from this Jewish friend.


End file.
